


The Apple Doesn't Fall Far From The Snake

by meloshi



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: (sort of), Cuddling & Snuggling, Demon Powers, Flowers, Fluff, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-27 19:13:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19797268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meloshi/pseuds/meloshi
Summary: His own inquisitive nature rubbed off on others, made their own emotions a little bit more truthful, a little bit more fierce, and a little bit more blatant, and it made other people follow their own desires all that more openly.- The apple wasn't what tempted Eve, it was the snake, and now the same was happening to Aziraphale





	The Apple Doesn't Fall Far From The Snake

**Author's Note:**

> im back, they're soft, it's disgustingly sweet as my works always are  
> these two really are going to be the death of me i swear (i also realised just how bad my touch deprivation is because god,,,, i got so emotional over the idea of them just t a l k i n g
> 
> Also - 1: the red begonia is a flower symbolic of passion and/or love and generally a very romantic flower to give someone (flower language is one of my strong points so i had to incorporate it somehow) so keep that in mind while reading :)  
> and 2: i'm exploring some kinda silly headcanons of my own in this so, see if you can spot them all haha, they're pretty subtle, other than the whole demon power thing but yea theres that
> 
> Please leave kudos/a comment if you have the time - it's greatly appreciated - I hope you enjoy reading!! <3

Aziraphale had known Crowley for the better half of his immortal life (or as close to immortal as he could get) so far. Better in terms of time and in terms of quality. There was just something so much more special about the years he could spend with his dear Crowley that he couldn’t – read as: didn’t want to – pinpoint exactly. He would chalk it all up to his friend being as special as they came, therefore making anything to do with him equally as special, if anyone ever asked.

Oh, to be with Crowley was to tread the fine line between dream and reality, between truth and fantasy, and if Aziraphale could pass the time on that thin tightrope, one step at a time, then he was sure he was never to find a finer pleasure.

It definitely hadn’t taken long for Crowley to set up a permanent abode in Aziraphale’s heart, and it had taken even less time for Aziraphale to come to terms with the fact that he was indefinitely more comfortable when the demon was by his side. Even during times in which he would enjoy the moments of silence he could manage to snatch way for himself amongst the hustle and bustle of human life, he couldn’t help but feel they’d be better enjoyed beside Crowley.

To run his hands through Crowley’s fiery locks! To place their palms against each other (like humans did in prayer, except, dare it be said out loud, somehow more holy) and intertwine their fingers! To lay beside him and merely talk for hours on end! These selfish wants were detrimental to Aziraphale’s state of mind when Crowley was nearby but he just couldn’t help himself from wishing for it to happen.

Honestly, it was improper…

 _Diametrically opposed._ He had called them such a multitude of times, or some variation of those words in the very least. Frankly, it didn’t make sense for an angel to be so close to a demon, but, then again, Crowley isn’t just any demon. He’s Aziraphale’s demon and Aziraphale wouldn’t trade their relationship – whatever it was – for anything.

His demon was a good demon, as much as Crowley would detest being called so, and as much as any other entity would deny the possibility of being true. Honestly though what is ‘good’ but a vague descriptor set against an ambiguous scale? Crowley was certainly more angelic than most of the angels that Aziraphale had the (dis)pleasure of coming into contact with.

Crowley had dined with him on many nights, let him indulge in human foods, and never once made a rude comment on his physique. Crowley had done miracles left, right, and centre for him even if they were just small things. Crowley trusted him. And while, yes, they had, on the occasion, both petty and grandiose arguments, but those were natural; it would have been improbable for them to have not been through such hardships.

After all, all couples have their ups and downs.

…

_Wait._

Aziraphale near dropped the begonia he had been carrying (he’d picked it up from the market on his way home – he had thought it would make a nice gift) as his conscious latched back on to his train of thought and forced it to a stop.

That was not what he had wanted to think in the slightest. It was bad enough that he knew he wanted to be with Crowley in a romantic sense but he knew that deep down in the darkest confines of his mind, not right at the forefront for him to fret over actively!

To be truthful, this had happened before. It happened whenever he stayed around Crowley for longer than he had originally anticipated to and often made parting all that more difficult. At first, he thought it was because he couldn’t quite control his desires as well as he would like to believe but, after some time, he found that no matter how hard he tried to not be affected by Crowley’s presence, or how angry or upset he got with him, he always forgave and loved again without fail.

Recently it was even worse.

Extended to times when Crowley wasn’t even around him in person, Aziraphale was finding himself having thoughts like that of a lovesick schoolboy or a doting housewife increasingly so with each passing day. He would say it was fine if only it really was – at first he had convinced himself it was fine as long as Crowley wasn’t around to pick up on it but when he indulged himself in his imagination he found his next meetings with the demon to be simply unbearable to the point that he struggled to look his demon in the eyes even when those sunglasses covered the beautiful golden hue that shone like the stars and shut Aziraphale out from the joy of looking at him directly and getting lost in those gorgeous pools of sunshine and—Oh, now he was just waxing poetic and being awful! This is exactly the reason he doesn’t like to let his thoughts run away from him.

If he had a mirror then Aziraphale was sure his face would be blushing something fierce and his awareness of this just made him walk all that faster. Or at least it would have if he had the choice to keep on walking for, when he turned the corner, he was abruptly cut off his trail by one Anthony J. Crowley getting out of one black Bentley car and gesticulating wildly as he sighed and explained how he had been trying to find him.

“I swear I need a tracking device on you whenever you leave the bookshop.” He gestured for Aziraphale to enter the car, and, acting on autopilot, Aziraphale made his way inside and sat down in the passenger seat.

“I wouldn’t go that far; I’m never anywhere unexpected.” He replied when Crowley slid into the driver’s seat and started up the car, taking to the road and driving down it in the direction of Aziraphale’s bookshop.

“What’s with the begonia?”

“Hmm? The b- Oh, the flower! Yes, it’s a gift, for you, I brought it for you. It would really brighten up the greenery in your apartment what with the bright red and all, won’t you agree?”

“I suppose I have to when you say it like that, Angel.” Crowley’s hands left the steering wheel and picked up the plant from where it sat in Aziraphale’s lap, hands brushing ever so slightly against each other with the simple action.

“Hands on the wheel, Crowley!” Aziraphale exclaimed turning his face straight forward and stopping himself from staring at Crowley’s hand and trying to distract himself from the fact that he was entirely sure he was still blushing.

“Psh, it’s fine,” he rolled his eyes and put the plant down and took hold of the wheel again just to appease Aziraphale, “I’m more worried about you than about hitting some pedestrian. Why so flustered Aziraphale?”

“Flustered? Me? I am not.” Aziraphale lied. Crowley made no move to push further in the conversation but did keep his eyes on Aziraphale, looking out the corner of them behind his sunglasses and watching how the angel fidgeted with his hands and kept moving his mouth as if he was going to say something but was stopping himself.

The Bentley continued driving, as it was meant to, down the road to the bookshop at the same reckless speed Crowley always drove at, despite the way Crowley’s foot eased up on the gas pedal and the way his hands weren’t even moving to turn in the slightest. No, Crowley’s attention was all on Aziraphale who was continuing to be as restless as when he first stepped foot into the car.

“You know, it’s really all your fault to begin with.” He had said out of seemingly nowhere. Of course, it was only out of nowhere to Crowley because he couldn’t hear Aziraphale’s inner monologue. If he could, then he would understand exactly what it was Aziraphale was fretting over and blaming him for – the angel had imagined that: Crowley had pestered him about being flustered; that Crowley had told him he knew something was wrong; that Aziraphale had explained that lust was by far one of the worst of the seven deadly sins; that Crowley had responded with a stuttering response of pure confusion from not expecting such a topic to be spoken by the angel, and that Aziraphale had finally blamed him for his flustered state, hence leading to their current predicament.

“Wh-sh-bu-th-a- What?” Ah, there came the stuttering response. “What have I done, angel? I promise it wasn’t on purpose, I don’t even, I don’t, uh…” Aziraphale turned to look at the demon with a resolve in his eyes, studying the way Crowley’s brow was furrowed and how his glasses had slipped down his nose to show his eyes just that little bit, a slither of yellow piercing into Aziraphale’s soul with the direct eye contact. It was silly but the saying ‘the eyes are the window to the soul’ came to mind and Aziraphale rushed to break eye contact to stop his worst kept secret from being revealed too fast.

The car pulled to a stop outside A.Z.Fell and Co. where it always stopped and Crowley turned fully to face Aziraphale the moment it stopped moving.

“But you must do, Crowley! As a demon it’s your job to tempt and trust me when I say you have been playing a fine game of it these past six thousand years.” He huffed out the words, unbuckling the seatbelt and opening the door to try and rush into his shop and avoid the confrontation altogether, because now it was happening it just seemed a little bit scary. Aziraphale was not a big fan of scary.

“Whoa, whoa, Aziraphale, hold up, what are you on about? I know you enjoy a riddle as much as the next person but I don’t so if you could clear this all up it’d be much appreciated.” Crowley followed after Aziraphale, leaving the flowerpot on the dashboard carefully before slamming the door shut behind him after stumbling over his own feet to follow Aziraphale.

Now, he hadn’t meant to be so aggressive (or attractive) when he slammed his arms either side of Aziraphale and pinned him to the wall before he would walk into his bookshop but it had been aggressive (and attractive) and it had made Aziraphale bristle in a way that shook his entire body and, if his wings had been out then Crowley was sure each feather would have quivered too.

“C-Crowley, release me this instant!” What a way to make matters worse…

“I’m not forcing you to stay but I do want to know what you’re on about. Pray t-Please tell me about my temptations.” Crowley eased up on the pinning action, removing one hand and then using it to take off his glasses to look at Aziraphale clearly. “Please, Angel.” He didn’t care that the humans walking down the street were sending them weird glances as they passed on by; he was focused solely on Aziraphale as always.

“It’s just that, isn’t it!” Aziraphale covered his face with both his hands and shook his head side to side. He lowered his hands but his eyes were still directed down to the pavement beneath their feet, still not having all the courage to face Crowley directly. “You’re just so tempting in general, with your nicknames and your soft words, so kind to me, and don’t you dare try and refuse that you are because you are and I should know because it’s always for me and you have the audacity to make me feel as though you love me too when you’re messing around and calling me ‘angel’ and doing all these miracles for me and treating me so well and- oh, Crowley, you make my heart go all out of shape but if it means I can reshape it to match yours then I’m sure it won’t be bad in the end.” As he finished speaking, Aziraphale turned his face up to look up at Crowley with a soft smile and watery eyes but was pulled into what was one of the tightest hugs in his entire life.

If Aziraphale had been watching Crowley all the time as he confessed then he would have noticed the way Crowley’s face had gone red, how Crowley had retracted his hand from the wall and covered his mouth as his eyes started to well up ever so slightly in the corners. He would have noticed the way Crowley’s mouth curled into the start of a smile when he heard the word ‘love’ fall from Aziraphale’s lips and how he had to physically restrain himself from pulling him into his arms right at that moment.

“Do you mean it?” He asked it quietly, voice wet and croaky with tears as he constricted his arms around Aziraphale, stopping himself from literally clinging to the angel with his legs too or, worse yet, transforming into a snake just to get even closer. “Do you really love me?” And the way his voice cracked on the word love made Aziraphale realise how Crowley felt in return.

Crowley knew himself just how tempting he could be. It sort of came with the demon title when he had initially fell – some powers were just exchanged for others it seemed – and was the reason he’d been sent up to the Garden of Eden to begin with. It sort of just happened naturally. His own inquisitive nature rubbed off on others, made their own emotions a little bit more truthful, a little bit more fierce, and a little bit more blatant, and it made other people follow their own desires all that more openly. The only thing was that Crowley didn’t really have much experience with other occult beings, angels or demons, actually getting affected by it and so he had never imagined it would be a problem for Aziraphale. It was a difficulty for him too, after all, it made him just as honest with his own feelings and all these years he’d spent trying to get Aziraphale to not realise that he loved him (and failing miserably because he couldn’t even begin to pretend he hated Aziraphale, even when angry with the angel) because he feared Aziraphale would reject him painfully like he had done twice already (granted those were both under the guise of friendship).

“I love you too, Aziraphale.” He managed to force out, now knowing Aziraphale’s true feelings too and hoping that this time nothing would come between them. He pulled back from the angel and cupped his face in his hands, using his thumbs to rub the tears that trailed down Aziraphale’s shocked face away.

“You… You do?” And with that single admission it felt as though a weight had been lifted from Aziraphale’s shoulders. Knowing that his feelings were returned made something in Aziraphale change – it made him feel free to not have to hide behind lies or worry about his every move revealing anything.

“Of course I do, how could anyone not love you?”

“I thought-”

“You really shouldn’t do that, who knows how much you’ll hurt your pretty little head.”

Aziraphale’s expression flattened, resembled something a little closer to a pout as he crossed his arms and sighed indignantly. “I’ve changed my mind; I take back what I just said.”

“I’m teasing, Angel, I swear.” Crowley laughed, taking Aziraphale by the hand and leading them into the bookstore, keeping the sign facing closed.

They made their way to the back, where there was an old brown sofa tucked between bookshelves and well used by both patrons and by the angel and demon duo who were once again occupying it, except this time for something other than reading. Crowley sat Aziraphale down on the cushion and he took his own place beside Aziraphale, legs slung over his angel’s legs and over the side as he hugged Aziraphale close with his arms around his neck and his face against his chest, inhaling deeply and sapping the warmth of Aziraphale’s body for himself.

It was peace to simply stay like that for how ever long they did, the two of them finding the position comfortable and natural and the two of them eventually getting even more close with Aziraphale’s hand stroking through Crowley’s hair and with Crowley almost dozing as he slumped against Aziraphale with his full weight and kept his eyes closed.

“I do love you, Aziraphale. I have for as long as I can remember.” Crowley eventually spoke up, still resting in Aziraphale’s lap, rubbing his cheek against Aziraphale’s chest ever so slightly, enjoying the feel of fabric and the scent of Aziraphale. “I’m sorry I made you feel sinful with my temptuous attitude. Is that a word? Temptuous?”

“I believe it’s your ‘ability to be tempting’. Temptuous is not a word, my dear.” Aziraphale chuckled lightly. “I… It has been bothering me, I will admit, but,” he lowered his face so his lips brushed at the edge where Crowley’s hair met skin, “I like this… I don’t believe I would have ever had the confidence to speak so brazenly to you like I have today about the subject. I’m sure I would have pushed it from my mind completely and never approached the idea. I like this.” He repeated for good measure, relishing in the way Crowley pushed his head closer to Aziraphale’s lips when he finished speaking and how he nodded slightly to show his agreement.

“And I like it too… We do have, oh, 6000 years to make up for now though.” Crowley point out, blinking his eyes open and looking up at Aziraphale more gently than he ever had before, sleepy eyes and tousled hair and the faintest of smiles.

“Then I suppose we should get started on that as soon as possible.”

The begonia left in Crowley’s car could feel the love emanating from within the bookshop, raw, overpowering, and pure, and it’s red petals practically shone a new crimson and it’s green leaves practically glistened a brilliant emerald with the tender intimacy and fond attachment that Aziraphale and Crowley shared feeding it’s growth.


End file.
